Meeting place for the broken hearted

I’m missing the olympics. I know I should have got over it by now, and yes, I know I have the paralympics to look forward to, but still. I miss it. I still have my bunting up and I still have my olympic tea towel out (it makes me dry up with more energy you know), but I miss my morning coffee in front of the olympic breakfast report and I even miss the frightening clash of the violent pink and purple colour scheme.

In my current maudlin state I remembered a sign that I had seen in Vancouver airport last year. Now, I’m not generally a stupid person, but when I saw this sign my first instinct was confusion. Why does the airport need a meeting place for the broken hearted? Surely there aren’t that many broken hearted people in the airport at any one time that they need their own meeting place? I couldn’t get past it. I mean, that much heartache, just round the corner…it’s a bit of a show stopper.

Such is the power of the sign.

I’m so used to reading things visually that my own brain refused to give up the obvious literal interpretation. I mean if they wanted me to think of defibrillators there are surely plenty of medical signs they could have used. Have you never seen a green cross? or a red cross? Come on people! a doctors bag? No? A doctor? I would have guessed a picture of an actual defibrillator quicker I’m sure, even though I’m not sure I’ve ever seen one apart from on ER…

Anyway. In hindsight the bolt of electricity on top of the heart is of course, a beautiful thing, but, when I was feeling maudlin at returning from a lovely holiday, context (my context) ruled logic. My learning from this is that a) graphics are really powerful for getting complicated messages across in the blink of an eye, so b) make certain you use the right one and c) sometimes I’m a bit stupid.